He Is Going To Have To Settle For Less
by ripsofftricks
Summary: He's someone that I would hate to be. I got the girl and he's left with just the memory. In which Alfred owes it to Francis that he hooked up with Arthur. Everything would be fine, if Francis would just let it go...


**Author's Note: This is a bit longer than my other fic and hopefully a lot more well-written too! I wrote this in about a day but it took two to have me and my beta, **anglophilic**, to look over all the mistakes and change some of the epic fluff that really shouldn't have been written.**

**So to my awesome beta, thank you for your patience and for putting up with me springing fluff on you whenever you turn around.**

**This fic is also based on a song and a fan-video. The credits and link is after the story. I find myself getting inspired by songs a lot. Maybe I should start a Song!Verse, yeah? And accept requests or something. But enough with my rambling (if you even bothered to read it), on with the US/UK!  
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**He Is Going To Have To Settle For Less**

The three of them walked into the bar, the crisp night air turning into a haze. The street was quiet and dark and the pub seemed to mirror that. There was no pulsating beat or heated bodies on the dance floor, merely the chinks of beer glasses and the buzz of small talk in the humble establishment.

Arthur led the way into the maze of dirty businessmen and decent kids, shoulders squared back and rigid. Alfred reached out to hold his hand, giving him a comforting glance as Francis continued to squeeze himself in Arthur's side.

Their relationship had begun a few months ago, it was a private affair and it was only a few weeks ago that they mustered enough confidence in themselves that they formally announced it at a G8 meeting. No one seemed to object over this and they had received many well-wishes amid snickers and taunts but that, they could handle and for a while, everything was perfect.

Until of course, Arthur's boss had ordered him to go to France to rebuild the broken bond that tore apart the two nations.

Francis and Arthur broke up in a dramatic and public declaration filled with hate and despise. It was so chaotic that a few meetings had to be postponed in order to cool the whole matter down and it took way longer to even sit the nations down in the same room.

The politicians and representatives, obviously, had been quick to defend their own country and for that small period, there seemed to be no end to it. The papers were filled with news of the rising tension between the two and Alfred had heard that the members of the EU had to step in and reconcile feelings before it festered into something worse. Thankfully, the civilians had no clue of the fall out and they were able to resolve it as quickly as possible.

It was two years ago that the whole matter ignited and ended with spiteful remarks (Francis) and hysterical shouting (Arthur). The G20 meeting where they declared the end of their liaison was violent and not many stayed.

Alfred did, because as a hero, if something went wrong he had to be there to save the day, right?

Nothing happened much except for the throwing of binders and the scuffle (that Alfred had helped to pry Arthur off Frenchman's neck).

Among the arguing and fighting, Alfred only managed to make sense of one thing. Francis had cheated.

Francis had cheated on Arthur with Seychelles and the Briton had found them in _his_ very own bed one afternoon and had thrown the adulterous pair out with profanities.

From what Arthur confided months later to Alfred, he had burned the offending item and dumped some of the ashes in France's binder at one of the many meetings. As reported by the man himself, apparently '_the git didn't even know what hit him.'_

But all that inadvertently led them here, in the meeting room where the atmosphere was thick with animosity.

Arthur had stormed off after, headed straight to a pub and downed every shot with fervor. Alfred had to stick with him through his drunken rambling, pathetic whining before dragging him home. But that wasn't the worst part of the day.

No. The worst was when Arthur willingly retired for bed. Alfred had secretly stood outside the closed door to keep watch and make sure everything was safe.

That was when he heard the sobbing.

It was heartbreaking. There were only a handful of times when he saw Arthur cry. And this was one of them. The ragged breathing and gasps and the sounds of desperation and betrayal that one could not even begin to aptly describe came from the Briton and it was truly _heartbreaking_ to see someone usually so strong and secure to be reduced to a crying mess.

Alfred had pushed the door slightly ajar to peek in.

Arthur wasn't even on the bed. In fact, he was huddled in one of the corners of his room, knees tucked up to his chest and sobbing. His breath had hitched and he tried to muffle the sobs which were slowly becoming wails.

Arthur had scared Alfred that night. He had never looked so vulnerable. On the day when Alfred won independence from the British Empire, he had only looked defeated and angry. This, however, was a whole other thing.

Alfred had to carry the older nation up to his bed amid the struggling and made sure he stayed there till he cried himself to sleep.

The harm that Francis had done was immense. Arthur hadn't let anybody into his heart after his Independence (and Alfred still felt a pang of guilt at the emotional hurt he must have caused) and he and Francis had been dating for but a better part of a year. Arthur had thrown himself into the relationship and had given everything he had.

And Francis went and flung it all away like yesterday's rubbish.

Months later, Alfred had to pick up all the shattered parts that Francis had broken and left behind, only to finish piecing back the Arthur Kirkland he knew and loved a few months ago. And that was when Arthur had finally entered into an official relationship with the American.

The both of them had grew close in the months that Alfred had been with Arthur to keep him from being suicidal and to be more upbeat and move on from the, according to the American, 'syphilitic bastard'.

Arthur had asked Alfred to accompany him to France and Alfred had agreed readily; he wasn't about to let what he had worked to fix, smash apart again. He was going to protect Arthur from whatever that Francis was ready to hurl at them. He was prepared and was ready to fight if the need ever arose.

Surprisingly, the Frenchman had been nothing but welcoming, and he plastered himself to Arthur's side like glue. It was a little unnerving. Arthur had been quite uncomfortable over it and he still was. But for the sake of their people and their economies, both Alfred and Arthur gritted their teeth and pasted a smile.

Alfred knew that the hurt and pain of Francis dumping him was gone from his boyfriend's heart and mind but he knew that the shame wasn't yet.

Arthur was ashamed couldn't even keep his man in place and indirectly allowed him to go on a rendezvous with someone else. And there were times when Alfred was fixing him that he questioned whether the problem lay with him, whether it was his fault that nobody could stay more than a few months with him.

Alfred, of course, was determined to prove him wrong.

Now, his self-esteem was perfectly healthy, nowhere near Alfred's gigantic ego but still. The day Arthur had risen in a meeting and told off Francis for being a complete dunderhead, Alfred grinned and had pulled the English nation out for some McDonalds to celebrate. That was but a month ago.

Presently, whenever Arthur would request Francis to cease and desist from clinging on to him like some five-year-old fool, the man would promptly bugger off. But five minutes later, he would be back and sticking harder than ever, draping himself shamelessly across Alfred's boyfriend.

The American had been left alone for the better part of the complimentary tour of Paris. Francis had devoted his every ounce of attention to the Briton and Alfred looked like the third wheel if not for the fact that he was actually Arthur's partner.

Arthur had gone to get a few drinks from the bar right smack at the back and left Alfred and Francis at one of the tables. This was Alfred's chance to demand from Francis his motives; even though he had a nagging feeling that he already knew the answer.

"What are you doing?" Alfred demanded, glaring fiercely into that nonchalant gaze.

"What are you talking about, boy? I'm doing nothing _wrong_," Francis replied, looking bored.

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "I'm no 'boy'. And you know what I'm talking about!"

At that, Francis had chuckled mockingly at Alfred, laugh never reaching the blue eyes that flashed deviously as he loosened the knot of his maroon tie against his collar.

"Darling, I'm only trying to charm my beloved _Angleterre_ back into my arms. I never should have let him go, the feisty little thing. I've almost forgot, he's so adorable, is he not?" he asked, looking back to stare at Arthur chatting with the bartender.

"You cheated on him," Alfred bit out coldly, "With Seychelles. Remember that, _Bonnefoy_?"

For a second, Francis looked genuinely sorry. But as soon as it was there, it was gone, replaced with a false smile, "I admit, that was _regrettable_."

Before Alfred could attempt to throttle the pervert, Arthur came back with a bright smile, brandishing three cups on a tray, "The bartender says this round's on him, the agreeable fellow. Drink up!"

Alfred reached for his glass, only to down it in one gulp. He watched as Francis scooted closer to Arthur, to regale him many entertaining tales of his country, no doubt. His endeavours at charming the Briton seemed to be failing but that didn't stop the American from feeling infuriated.

Mumbling a reason to excuse himself, Alfred walked to the washroom to calm down.

The icy cold water from the tap cooled the flush the alcohol brought to Alfred's face and refreshed him considerably. He had enough faith in Arthur to know that he wouldn't return to his ex-lover but the nerve of the Frenchman angered him. He had to bring the pompous idiot down a notch; he wanted to rub into his face that he was the one who had Arthur, that Francis had lost his chance, now and forever.

Because Alfred's never going to let Arthur go.

Walking out with newfound determination he spoke to the bartender to use the stage in the middle of business in return for fifty US dollars (he didn't have Euros on him). The bartender gave his permission slyly and sent a few waiters to set up the equipment, then asked him to hurry his performance up before the owner of the pub returned.

That had taken a grand total of five short minutes and he handed his iPod over to one of the waiters to plug it in the system to connect it to the amplifiers.

And now for the most important part, which was the audience.

He had found Arthur sitting at the table trying to push Francis off his chair. Alfred had rescued Arthur with bravado and gave the villain a dirty stare before ushering the both of them to the 'front row' seats.

"Are you singing?" Arthur asked, as Alfred wrapped his arms around his bewildered frame and gave him a kiss.

"Yeah, it's for you and the frog."

Arthur looked concerned. "You never called Francis 'frog' before. What's happening, Alfred?"

Alfred smiled at Arthur, reassuring him with a squeeze to the palm, "I'm paying him back for the humiliation he brought you." Arthur looked more concerned now, and Alfred continued, "And as a bonus, it'll make me feel a lot better."

Arthur frowned but nodded, slumping into a chair before the spotlight. Francis gave Alfred a suspicious glance before turning back to shower his affections on the man trying to scoot away from him.

Showtime.

It was one of the more mainstream songs that were pop-rock and Alfred could bet his life that Francis didn't recognize it. And Arthur, either being into classic rock or the grand strains of the orchestra shouldn't either.

He had picked his song well.

Hearing the introductory riffs of the electric guitar and drums, Alfred readied himself; time to be a hero and beat the villain again. All in a day's work, after all.

"_When he was seeing her, you could see he had his doubts._

_And now he's missing her because he knows he's missing o-o-o-out_

_Now it's haunting him, memories like a ghost. _

_He's so terrified 'cause no one else even comes close."_

He could see the shell-shocked look on both their faces despite the garish light of the spotlight against his eyes. Especially on Francis and that made him feel satisfied, having shocked the poor man into speechlessness.

That would teach him for hurting one of the most important people in Alfred's life. That would also warn him against trying to seduce whomever Alfred deems as his.

"_He's the guy that you should feel sorry for. _

_He had the world but he thought that he wanted more._

_I owe it all to the mistake he made back then._

_I owe it all to my girl's ex-boyfriend."_

The chorus was catchy but all Alfred could feel was the thrumming of the music in his bones. He loved the attention of being on stage and he could even spot a small smile of Arthur's blushing face as he pointed at Francis on the last line.

The Frenchman was horrified.

"_So then, along comes me, this undeserving mess._

_Who would believe my life would be so blessed?_

_Two years ago, when he left all that debris_

_Who would've known he would leave everything I need."_

Arthur was definitely blushing right now. The red that had spread from his neck, over his face and even to his ears. It wasn't a delicate sort of flush but it was so endearing that Alfred had to hold back a laugh.

Arthur was embarrassed and it was the cutest thing ever. And yet, he also looked sort of flattered and he ought to be. Not that Alfred was humoring him, the man was great. Almost as awesome as Alfred and that was something to be proud of.

"_He's the guy that you should feel sorry for. _

_He had the world but he thought that he wanted more._

_I owe it all to the mistake he made back then._

_I owe it all to my girl's ex-boyfriend."_

Francis looked hopping mad. And to think the payback was happening right in his territory. Alfred hoped that this wasn't going to damage the Anglo-French relations that they had been here to try to mend.

But Alfred had no illusions. This wasn't something that Francis is going to take well. The Anglo-French relations between the two personas of the nations were as good as gone and not to mention the damage it would do the Franco-American relations.

His boss wouldn't be too happy about that, the damage that was done now could take years to repair. And Alfred definitely wasn't going to be receiving invitations to visit France any time soon. In fact, he believed that Francis just might be furious enough to put him on the airport black-list.

But it was a small price to pay.

"_If it wasn't for him, I would still be searching._

_If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't know my best friend._

_If it wasn't for him, he'd be able to see._

_If it wasn't for him, he'd be as happy as me."_

Biting his lip, Arthur smiled beatifically at Alfred as he commanded the stage, walking all around to make it known who he was singing to and who he was trying to mortify. A few were singing softly along to the easily predicted lyrics and a few were also throwing Francis disapproving looks.

The rest were seeing green at Arthur. And it wasn't the Briton's eyes either.

"_She and I settle down and you can bet,_

_That he is gonna have to settle for less._

_He's someone I would hate to be,_

_I got the girl and he's left with just a_ memory_."_

Francis was speaking frantically to Arthur now but Arthur had a reluctant frown on his face. Alfred had a passing worry that Francis was upsetting him but Arthur had now roughly pushed Francis off him, giving him a quick glare before standing up to watch Alfred.

"_He's the guy that you should feel sorry for. _

_He had the world but he thought that he wanted more._

_I owe it all to the mistake he made back then._

_I owe it all to my girl's ex-boyfriend."_

Francis abruptly got up and growled something to Arthur, which almost made Alfred want to jump off the stage and punch him for even trying to threaten his boyfriend. The fact that he was even trying in front of Alfred was plain stupidity on his part. But before he could go deck the guy, Arthur gave him a smirk and that was when Alfred knew that Arthur didn't need his protection from Francis.

He could do it himself.

"_If it wasn't for him, I would__ still be searching._

_If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't know my best friend."_

With Francis gone and sufficiently insulted and humiliated, Alfred wondered why he was still on stage when his mission was accomplished. But then, there was only half a verse left and Alfred figured, _what the heck_. Arthur was looking at him with a small grateful smile on his face as Alfred pulled him up into the spotlight.

He turned his lips away from the microphone to stare at those bottle green eyes, those absolutely mesmerizing eyes, and started to sing the final two sentences to Arthur. Just to Arthur.

The Frenchman was gone and all that really mattered now was that Arthur wasn't too disappointed over the failed reunion. But Alfred could see that Arthur could appreciate the sentiment.

_If it wasn't for him, he would be able to see._

_If it wasn't for him, he'd be as happy as me."_

Alfred pulled Arthur in for a kiss. It wasn't electrifying or hot with want. It wasn't dramatic and their noses had in fact collided quite painfully against each other. But Arthur's lips were soft and warm against his and for a moment that was all that Alfred could feel.

Pale hands were pulling him closer and Alfred's arms were wrapped around the Brit's small frame as the pub melted away. All Alfred could see was black because he had closed his eyes. All he could feel was Arthur and all he could smell was Arthur and everything… everything was Arthur and Alfred found that he didn't give a toss.

This moment was all that he could feel and this moment was all that mattered. The both of them, in a French bar, on a beautiful Saturday night.

Alfred would be in major trouble once he arrived back on American soil and the President would no doubt give him a lecture of diplomatic relations and the responsibilities of being a global superpower. The weight of his people would be back on his shoulders and then he would be tied back to his country once more.

Arthur drew away and rested his forehead against Alfred's. Their lips were inches apart. "You didn't have to, you know."

Alfred grinned at him. "And the hero saves the day once again."

"I'm the damsel in distress now?" Arthur's lips curled into a wry smile as Alfred nodded.

For a few minutes at least, he wasn't the United States of America no more. He was Alfred F. Jones.

And his only responsibility, the only one, was ensuring the happiness of one very lucky Arthur Kirkland.

_If it wasn't for him, he would be able to see._

_If it wasn't for him, he'd be as _happy as me.

End.

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**My Girl's Ex-Boyfriend belongs to Relient K and the fan video belongs to the Youtube user who made it, and the link is here: **

.com/watch?v=SvQ7BitK59E

**I'm sorry for portraying France in such a bad light, usually I do tolerate him... but every story needs a bad guy right? I hope it wasn't too clichéd and that you liked it. The song still refuses to bugger off in my head and I'm going to have to scrape it out myself in a few hours. **


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